Be The Same
by Megaroo
Summary: What's a sanctimonious teetotaller to do when her best friend goes off and gets wasted? Pick a fight with Daddy, of course.


_A decade ago, I never thought I would be, at twenty three, on the verge of spontaneous combustion. Woe-is-me. But I guess that it comes with the territory; an ominous landscape of never-ending calamity. I need you to hear, I need you to see that I have had all I can take and exploding seems like a definite possibility to me. _

The wind blew in my face as I listened to my headphones on the flight to Capsule Corporation. My good mood elevated even more when the radio station put on one of my favorite songs by my absolute favorite music group. Sure, Incubus' "Pardon Me" was angry, bitter, and spiteful, but it worked wonders for my state of mind in the opposite emotional direction.

I'd called up Bura a few minutes prior, hoping for some sort of friendly conversation to take place before she took off for college. Imagine my delight when she demanded, in the way that only Bura can, "I'm packing up my stuff and getting depressed, you have to come over here now!"

Seeing as how I usually had to tell her to ask me to visit, this royal command was promptly and more than happily obeyed. Which is why I was in the air, doing loops in time with the music through the stratosphere and startling several geese in the process.

_So pardon me while I burst into flames. I've had enough of the world and it's people's mindless games. So pardon me while I burn and rise above the flame. Pardon me, pardon me... I'll never be the same. _

When I arrived on the predominately yellow compound, I let myself in, out of habit, and made my way up to my best friend's room, waving to Bulma and Trunks in the process as I passed each of them. Vegeta was nowhere to be seen. Big surprise there.

I found Bura standing inside her closet, half hidden by the boxes and piles of random stuff surrounding her. She was going all-out with this cleaning-out-room thing.

She didn't look at me as I came in, just straightened up and announced, "If you've come in here to try and convince me not to go, you can just forget about it. Your first ten tries didn't work, so I have a strong feeling the eleventh would be a lost cause, Daddy."

Sitting in her computer chair, since her bed was currently occupied by two rather large suitcases, I giggled. "Don't tell me the great Saiya-jin prince has got empty-nest syndrome."

Dropping whatever she'd been taking off a shelf, Bura catapulted herself over the mess to engulf me in a huge hug where I sat, then returned to her excavation. "Like you wouldn't believe! If this is what happens to fathers when their baby girls move out, I'm scared to think of how your dad is going to act a year from now."

Groaning, "I try not to think about it."

"Really, you'd think he'd chill out a bit, you are the strongest girl on the planet. And even of you weren't, you're still seventeen. And I'm eighteen for goodness sakes! I can buy cigarettes, rent porn, and get a real job, you'd think our fathers would get a clue. You want this?"

I caught the book she tossed me and read the title. "'Rush Limbaugh is a Big Fat Idiot'? Where did this come from?"

She shrugged, tossing a pink camisole sweater over her shoulder to land in one of the suitcases. "Eh, I stole it from my brother when he finished reading it. I didn't get some of the stuff, but I figured you'd like it since you're into that ancient history and politics stuff."

"Gee, thanks. I think."

"Don't mention it."

Her hair was hanging down in front of her face a bit, so she casually flipped it over her shoulder. At that moment, I noticed something on her neck that I'd never expected. Contrary to popular belief, Bura was not a 'party girl' or a slut or anything else that even hinted at a darker connotation. We were both 'good kids'. "Bura... Is that a hickey on your neck?"

"Well..." She reddened slightly, and failed to meet my eyes. "I wasn't going to tell you about this..."

_Not two days ago, I was having a look in a book and I saw a picture of a guy fried up above his knees. I said, "I can relate," cause' lately I've been thinking of combustication as a welcome vacation from the burdens of the planet earth. _

Tears burned behind my eyelids as I flew home, oblivious to the sonic boom that resounded through the atmosphere as I accelerated past the speed of sound. Nothing abut my surroundings made any impression on me. All I could think about was my best friend, who'd made fun of and looked down upon the people at school whose idea of fun was getting stoned, smashed, laid, or any combination of the three. My best friend, who knew me better than anyone else and must have known how I would feel when I eventually found out about what she and the rest of our 'friends' did.

Bura got drunk, insanely drunk, at a party, and made out all night with Jiro, a boy she wasn't in any sort of relationship with.

"I wanted to know what it felt like," she'd said, "so that when I go off to college I'll know my limits."

Who said she had to be getting plastered at school?

"At least I was in a safe environment with people I knew."

Safe? She calls a camp on the lake with a bunch of other drunk teenagers 'safe'? What if something had happened, what if one of our 'friends' had decided to be stupid, what if her and Jiro's hormones had decided to make more action than just necking?

What if I found out, and was hit by a wave of memories that she knew still bothered me? What if I heard, and was hurt by her thoughtless actions, because I seemed to care more about Bura than Bura cared about Bura?

I'd be angry. Disappointed. Betrayed. Shocked. Helpless. Out of control.

Useless. Unimportant enough to spare even a thought towards me.

I'd always nurtured the notion that I had some sort of effect on the people around me. That I taught them as much about life as they taught me. That maybe some of my adamant Don't-Be-Stupid philosophies had rubbed off on them.

But I didn't even have the power to positively influence my closest friend.

And what's worse, she didn't even know how deeply my emotions on the subject ran. Obviously she was aware I was hurt, and keenly disappointed, figuring I'd get over it soon.

What about everything else?

_Like gravity, hypocrisy, and the perils of being in 3-D... and thinking so much differently. So pardon me while I burst into flames. I've had enough of the world and it's people's mindless games. _

I touched down by the back door of my house and ran into the kitchen, where Dad was standing in front of the stove, wearing a frilly pink apron Grandma had made him, and wielding a spatula. He jumped as I entered, slamming the door behind me, and turned to reprimand me. The tirade stopped at his lips as he took in my disheveled appearance and most likely tear-stained face. Instead he opted for, "Panny? What's the--"

"Spar. Now." I spit out, cutting him off. If I didn't release some of this negative energy, the chairs in my house were doomed--cause of death: me.

He followed obediently, losing the apron and cooking implement, as I stalked back outdoors and assumed a fighting stance. Standing across from me, he copied my position, though his facial expression was that of one who wanted to talk, not fight.

Tough luck, Pops.

I attacked, powering up in the process, giving me two legitimate reasons to scream out the hurt that was roaring through my insides. _Bura got hammered._

Sure, it would fade in time, and I'd end up doubting the veracity of my morals as all those socialites around me coalesced into a single unit whose only purpose was to disagree with me. Maybe I was blowing things out of proportion. Maybe not. The pain was real now, there was no doubting it, and that's why, for twenty minutes, I fought my father non-stop.

_Bura got smashed on purpose._

It was an intense spar, made up of the usual punches, blocks, and kicks that we were allowed to use on the property. No energy attacks--that was the rule. Though a Kamehameha wave would have felt really nice right about then.

_Bura got drunk, just like--_

A fist came out of nowhere, heading for my face, and as I barely blocked it, my mind flashed back to another time, long before this, when alcohol and violence took prevalent places in my mind. Breathing hard, I powered down and dropped to the ground.

I was twelve when Dad lost his job. The university had had budget cuts, and three random teachers were shafted. He was one of them.

He was really torn up about it. Instead of bouncing back in typical Son style, he moped at the local bar, imbibing more and more at each subsequent visit. A month this went on. One evening he came home, no inhibitions, angry at something going on in the world that he couldn't change. Mom refused to let him in the house. That just made him more angry. He powered up. Mom stood her ground, and then before neither of us knew it, that's what she was lying on.

I stepped in to defend her, and was instantly caught up in a battle with a nonsensical powerhouse three times my age. There was no talking with him. No defence against him. No way to win.

That was the first time I went Super Saiya-jin.

I managed to break his nose. And found myself literally kissing the dirt as I felt him fly towards me, fist most likely raised to strike.

The blow never came, just a thud of something heavy hitting the ground, and a rough, enraged voice demanding, "What the _hell_ is going on here?"

I rolled over, to be greeted with the sight of Vegeta glaring down at Son Gohan with what could only be described as a look of complete contempt. He sniffed the air, recognition passing over his face, then strode over to me, grabbing a lock of my yellow hair. "And here I though that other power was a new enemy come to destroy us all, when it was just you."

Sniffling, and rubbing my eyes with my knuckles, I didn't respond. He sighed then, stooping, picked me up with one arm. Walking a few meters, he bent to toss my unconscious mother over his other shoulder, then took to the air.

We stayed at Capsule Corp for three days. Everyone there knew what had happened and tried to help us in any way they could. It was nice of them. I slept on a cot in Bura's room.

Mom and Dad eventually met and talked things out, Vegeta surreptitiously supervising, though as far as I knew no one told him to. Dad went for counseling, we went back home, and there were no more repeat incidents. From then on I mainly trained with Goten, and sometimes Trunks. I didn't spar once with my father for three years.

_Bura got drunk, just like him._

He knelt beside me, and when he touched my cheek I realized it was wet with tears. "What happened, Pan? You can tell me."

Someone had to know. I couldn't carry around this angry, growing sense of resentment on my own. At least I knew he wouldn't give me the, "Well she's a teenager and that's what teenagers do" line. That's no excuse. And if he gave it to me, I'd deck him.

"Bura got really drunk last night."

He started. "What?"

"She did. She told me today. She got totally, completely smashed and did some rather stupid stuff, and now she thinks everything is all fine and dandy when it's really not. I mean, she knew how I felt about that stuff and that I would find out eventually. She knew it would make me associate you and her in my mind and she doesn't seem to understand why I'm so freaked about it. I mean, I know the world doesn't revolve around me, and I'm not the center of her universe but I wish she'd have at least given one thought, one _measly_ thought as to the consequences of her stupid, stupid decisions." I punched the ground with my fist, no longer looking at him, and went on. "And the way she was talking, it was like she actually plans to continue imbibing that stupid, stupid stuff when she's off at college, too."

_So pardon me while I burn and rise above the flame. Pardon me, pardon me... I'll never be the same._

_Never be the same._

Trailing off, I stared dejectedly at nothing, dwelling on the fact that one of my biggest fears was becoming a certainty and there was no way to keep my personal reality from spiraling down into a likeness of hell. Maybe I was blowing things out of proportion. Maybe not.

"Pan."

I ignored him.

"Pan. You are not losing Bura to the evil clutches of alcoholism and the underworld." He tilted my chin up with his forefinger, bading me to look him in the eye. "Have faith in her, Pan."

Slowly, I nodded.

Finis.__


End file.
